


Riddles

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: (sort of), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Porn, Episode: s03e10 Ultraworld, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Other, Praise Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Orac asks for Vila's help with an experiment.
Relationships: Vila Restal/Orac, mentions of Dayna/Tarrant, mentions of Vila/Kerril, unrequited Vila/Dayna
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	Riddles

**Author's Note:**

> For the kinkmeme prompt: "Vila/Orac. (Surely the human/robot thing is a kink in itself.)"

If Vila hadn't been so drunk, he'd have never have thought to take him. Too afraid of Avon's reaction. But Avon isn't spending much time on Orac at the moment, no more than he is, and so why shouldn't Vila take him? Orac's the most valuable pile of junk in the whole galaxy, and if Vila can steal him, he can steal anything. That has to be worth something, right?

Still, he's almost forgotten he's there until that electronic voice comes buzzing through his room, interrupting Vila while he's half-asleep on his bed. “Vila, I want you to demonstrate something for me.”

Groggy, he just about manages to push himself up. “What do you want?” he whines, before he remembers: “Hang on, you're the computer, I'm the human. Shouldn't I be telling you what to do?” That's important somehow. He's not sure how.

Orac gets rather huffy with him then. “Given it was my actions that prevented the crew being lost to the beings on Ultraworld, I would expect you to show a little gratitude, and not refuse my perfectly reasonable requests without discussion!”

Vila groans. That'll teach him to think he can argue with Orac. “Fine.” He just about manages to push himself into a sitting position, and rubs his eyes. “What is it?”

“I need you to demonstrate the human pleasure reflexes to me.”

 _What?_ Before Vila gets the chance to ask more questions though, Orac continues: “my analysis of the Ultras' information has revealed vast gaps in my knowledge that I cannot abide. Of course, I have long since observed all there is to know about what they were investigating, the human reproductive cycle, but the miscellany associated with it is dreadfully unfamiliar to me. Specifically, I cannot understand why Dayna and Tarrant, whose physiological readings tell me are highly attracted to one another, chose not to have intercourse when presented with the opportunity to do so. Therefore, I need you to show me how humans find pleasure in sex even without the potential to reproduce, indeed without a partner that could possibly allow them to reproduce, and hence give me a framework for understanding the meaning humans ascribe to the act.”

Vila blinks. He didn't follow any of that, except for how Tarrant wants to fuck Dayna, and how Dayna wants to fuck Tarrant – which, well, it's not like he thought he had any chance with her, but it does strike him as so bloody _typical_ , that Tarrant is the sort of man whose lap the universe just drops beautiful women into, no matter how much of a prick he is. “So... you want me to do what?” he asks, trying not to get distracted.

Orac buzzes in way that, were he a human, would probably come out as a sigh. “I want you to perform the act of self-gratification for me,” he says. “My observations tell me you are not unfamiliar with it.”

 _...This is a dream. This is a very strange dream._ Vila's eyes go wide as he realises what Orac is telling him. “You want me to toss myself off for you?!”

“If that is your preferred euphemism, yes!” Orac is starting to get impatient with him. “My analysis tells me you are the crewmember least likely to present a sustained resistance to the idea–”

“Are you calling me a slag?”

“–And I would like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Now, do you agree?”

Vila stares at the flashing box of lights for a long while. And then, out of nowhere, he starts to laugh.

Well, it's funny, isn't it? A computer asking you to strangle the warg. Anyone would laugh at that. It's a joke, same as all the jokes he told Orac earlier, and Vila should tell him that – he should explain why it's stupid for Orac to ask him to do that, and then he can get some sleep.

But that sounds exhausting.

He is just drunk and tired enough that he thinks, _why not?_ Like Orac said, it's not like he's unfamiliar with the act – he's had sex once in the last three years (Kerril, he should try not to think about Kerril), he's long since gotten used to fulfilling his own needs. What difference does it make if Orac is sitting in the corner watching? He could probably get everything he wants to know from the ship's records anyway. Really, it's uncharacteristically nice of him that he bothered asking at all.

And perhaps Vila doesn't want to settle for his own hand one more night. Alright, jerking off while Orac watches won't be like making love to someone to cares for him, but it will be – well. It'll be something.

That logic makes sense to a drunk.

“...Alright,” he says, with the distinct sense he's going to regret this. “So, er, how should I–”

“Oh, you are more familiar with the process than I am,” Orac tells him. “Proceed as you would normally! I shall just observe.”

“Right.” Vila feels a little uneasy. It's hard not to feel like an animal in a zoo being watched, but he puts that thought out of his mind. He strips his trousers and pants off without ceremony, then hesitates before removing his shirt as well. It's not really necessary, but it does make it easier to crawl straight into bed after. He takes his shirt off.

As he's left fully naked he wonders vaguely what Orac will think, how he'll file away Vila's body, pale and scrawny, yet slightly flabby around the middle; hardly the stuff pornographic vizfilms are made of. Still, Orac's not one to judge on those grounds, is he?

“Well?” Orac sounds very impatient with him. Vila sighs and closes his hand around his cock, not even slightly aroused. He tries his best to make himself so. He'd ask Zen to play some blue movies for him, the simple method, but getting Zen involved is the one thing that could make this weirder than it already is.

He thinks of Dayna. He shouldn't, and she'd put him through a wall if she knew, but she is beautiful, and it's not like she'll ever find out, so why shouldn't he imagine her bouncing on his cock, like he should be so lucky? It's enough to get him up under even these bizarre circumstances, anyway.

Enough to get him up, perhaps, but it's hard to keep it up with Orac buzzing away in the corner, distracting him. “Orac!” he shouts as he tightens his hand around his prick, not willing to give up on how far he's come so far.

“What?” Orac's lights flicker in interest, as if he was enjoying his observations most thoroughly, and is rather annoyed to be interrupted.

Vila bites his lip. He's not sure what, really, but– “Could you talk to me?” he asks, and then wonders why he said it.

Orac _brr_ s at him and doesn't answer for a long time, apparently confused by his response. “I don't see why I should,” he says, and Vila starts feeling very embarrassed. Orac's right, him talking should do nothing for Vila, one way or another. He's being generous, letting the computer watch him, or at least too lazy to try and argue. Needing a computer to whisper sweet nothings to him is pathetic, even by his standards. “Would it aid the experience if I were to speak to you?”

No, of course it wouldn't, except– “Well it's weird, doing this with you just watching me!” he exclaims. “I can hardly think about anyone else with you right there. You might as well try and set the mood!”

Orac buzzes some more, almost as if he's thinking. “Your physiological responses are, accounting for your age and health, quite impressive,” he declares. “You display an acceptable level of virility. Could you please continue?”

That must be Orac's best attempt at talking dirty. Vila laughs. But despite it all it does something for him; he squeezes his cock tighter, pre-come sliding down his length so he can stroke himself with some rhythm. At least Orac is trying.

“Orac...” he murmurs, quickening his pace as a hundred beautiful women flicker through his mind, but none of them stick around for long. “Keep talking, please.”

The buzz fills his room once more and he closes his eyes, letting it blitz through his body. “Your stamina and reflexes are, by human standards, admirable.” Vila wonders who exactly he's being compared to there. “I imagine whichever human you last had intercourse with was most satisfied.”

Vila flinches. _Kerril._ He hopes she's very happy back on Vilaworld, or whatever they wound up calling it. He still thinks maybe he should have gone with her. Sure, he would have gotten bored with nothing to steal, but is that really all there is to him?

It's hard to imagine anyone missing him here.

“Orac,” he gasps as he drives his hips upward, getting close to the brink. “More.”

The computer whirrs some more, sounding almost distressed. “I am attached to you,” he says, which really does take Vila by surprise. “I consider you one of mine. I enjoy watching you in states of pleasure, and would be distressed if you were in pain. Now kindly climax for me.”

Vila moans, losing track of himself. “Orac...”

The orgasm that hits him is weak and pitiful, but very much there, leaving him shivering with a sticky trail running down his thigh. As soon as he's done a wave of alcohol-induced dizziness hits him, and he collapses back onto his side. “Well, is that what you were hoping for?” he asks, curling up on himself and not bothering to hide his naked body.

That electronic hum sounds awfully self-satisfied now. “Yes. I believe I shall be able to draw valuable conclusions from this data. Thank you, Vila.”

Vila sighs into his pillow. _Even the computer can use me for whatever he wants,_ he thinks, and promptly passes out.


End file.
